


Speak Softly Love

by tornandfrayed



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Santos Administration, staffing changes, west wing x the godfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornandfrayed/pseuds/tornandfrayed
Summary: "I think I'm ready to leave the White House."
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Speak Softly Love

**Author's Note:**

> “The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other.” Mario Puzo, The Godfather.

Cold air had blasted along the east coast, bringing with it a front of rain that kept up a gentle patter against the roofs, sidewalks, and windows of Washington’s residents. Despite it being a quite common occurrence, the District’s bureaucracy never seemed prepared to handle the minor test to its infrastructure, and as a result, the water had flooded the storm drains and puddled in streets. 

Josh Lyman sat in the back of his chauffeured black SUV, a perk of the job rather than a symbol of consumption and capital, similarly unprepared for the day’s constant rain. He had left the house early, hours before sunrise, in a rush leaving his raincoat where it hung on the rack by the front door. Now, as he rested his head against the window, his hair and shoulders soaking from the briefest exposure, he watched as the cars splashed through the water, their headlights glinting in the rain and scattering into the dark night. It was a hallmark of his career, he mused as he watched the streetlight change from red to green, he was into work before the sun was up, and home well after it had set. But for a brief outing to the park near the house yesterday morning, a gorgeous bright and brisk Saturday, especially when compared with today’s weather, he couldn’t remember the last time he had spent time outside in the sunlight. Probably Hawaii, he thought, was that— _Jesus_ —five years ago already?

He was halted in his musings by the slowing of the car as it pulled up to the curb in front of the townhouse. Quaint, especially by Georgetown standards, it was home and it had been since Donna had conspired with Josh’s detail to make the detour on their commute home one July evening. She had looked at him with those bright blue eyes and that wide grin and _oh aren’t those flower-boxes with the yellow daffodils pretty?_ And so, a month later, with all their earthly possessions boxed and meticulously organized (Donna), and only one vase broken (Josh), they had moved into the townhouse with its pretty flower-boxes, and stainless steel appliances, and original hardwood, and, it turned out, its chronically leaking roof, which now that Josh thought about it, he needed to find the time to check how the latest patch was withstanding the rain. Still, it was much too late for a sojourn into the attic and he had more pressing issues to attend to as he toed off his shoes by the front door.   
  
“Is she still awake?” he asked as Donna treaded carefully down the stairs to meet him at the door.

She smiled sadly and shook her head, “I just put her down.” Seeing the disappointment in Josh’s demeanor she took pity on him, offering weakly, “I could wake her up if you want.”

“No.” Josh sighed as he waived off her phony offer, he may be relatively new to fatherhood but even he knew better than to wake a sleeping toddler, “No that’s—it’s fine.”

With his sense of urgency evaporated, he trudged into the living room and collapsed on the couch, head lolling back against the cushion as the day’s, nay weeks’ events caught up with him. Donna followed into the living room, curling up on the couch and rubbing his arm consolingly. “I took lots of video, if that helps.” Josh let his head loll to the side, casting her a look that _no, it very much did not help_. “I know,” she sighed.

Josh only groaned, letting his head fall forward into his hands.

Donna tried again, “She’s sixteen months old, Josh. It’s not like she’ll remember you weren’t there.”

“Sixteen months going on sixteen years,” Josh scoffed, “I missed the sonogram; I damn near missed her birth—”

Sensing he was beginning to spiral, Donna broke in, “You can’t control a category four hurricane hitting the eastern seaboard, no matter how hard you try,” she flashed him a gentle smile, “and I knew you would make it there in the end.”

It didn’t work. Apparently, this particular storm had been brewing for a while, “It was sheer luck I was here for her first words,” he continued as he rose from the couch and began to pace. “I swear if I hadn’t left that economic council briefing here, I would have missed that too. Now her first steps. God, I’m a terrible father.”

“Josh,” Donna grabbed his wrist in an attempt to stop his frantic movements, “No you are not. Parenthood is—” she paused, trying to find the right word, “well it’s _hard_ and you’re doing your best. We’re _both_ doing our best.”

“What am I going to miss next? Her first day of kindergarten? Her wedding? _Sorry sweetie, Daddy can’t walk you down the aisle because he’s too busy in fucking meetings._ ”

“Well if it’s any consolation,” she tried lightly as she pulled him back down onto the couch, “President Santos will probably be out of office on the day our daughter is to be married.”

“How am I going to explain it to her though?” he asked once he was settled. He looked at her with her with such openness in his eyes, such internal strife, it damn near broke her heart, “When she asks why I missed all these things?”

Donna couldn’t stand the pain she saw reflected in his eyes, so instead she trained her gaze on their intertwined hands, massaging lightly at his knuckles, “It’s not like you’re in any old meetings. It’s the sit room. It’s important and she’ll understand that.” She glanced up towards the stairs that would lead to where their daughter, with her same blonde hair and blue eyes and Josh’s dimples and boisterous personality, was no doubt sleeping soundly, oblivious to the stress of her parents’ jobs, and the troubles of the outside world; oblivious at least for now. “She’ll understand that eventually.”

“That’s just the thing,” Josh let go of her hand so he could rub at his eyes, “Sometimes I’m sitting there, and— _god_ —we’re talking about nuclear war between two global superpowers. This thing, it just keeps heating up and I just keep thinking if this were to all end tomorrow, if someone in Russia or in China were to decide to just hit that button, I have to wonder, did I spend enough time with her?”

“Oh Josh.” Donna tried to pull him into her embrace, “You can’t think like that, honey. That will never happen.”

“You’re not the one in the meetings.” He exclaimed harshly, “You don’t—” he clenched and unclenched his fist as he tried to temper his misdirected frustration, taking a deep breath as he continued, “Sorry, but you’re not there. You don’t see what I see.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“And I’m so out of my depth in that room. I mean what the fuck do I know about military strategy or ICBMs or fucking anything? I know domestic policy. I know Congress. I shouldn’t even be in there.”

“You’ve _earned it_ , Josh.” Donna sounded almost as though she were pleading with him, and as he looked in her eyes, he saw a level of earnestness in them that he hadn’t seen in years. Not since she was telling him she wouldn’t stop for red lights, or that as long as they had their health and their strength, then they would steal the rest. “You’ve wanted that job since I met you.”

Suddenly, it was as if he could see the answer so clearly reflected in the crystal blue waters of her eyes, “I don’t want it. I don’t want this job, at least not anymore.”

But if the answer was clear to him, Donna only remained confused, “I don’t understand. Are you saying—”

“I think I’m ready to leave the White House.”

“Oh, wow. That’s—"

“Abandoning everyone?” Josh gave a humorless laugh, “Quitting before the job is done?”

“No, not at all.” Donna shook her head swiftly, “I guess I just never thought I’d hear you say that. I always assumed the Republicans were going to have to force you out.”

“I just feel guilty. I mean, I’m the one that convinced him to run. To take on a job that makes it damn near impossible for him to see his kids, and now I’m just going to leave him high and dry in the middle of a war?”

“You’re not leaving him high and dry.” It was Donna’s turn to scoff. “Think of everything you’ve done in that office: the education bill, the stimulus, healthcare. How many presidency-defining bills did you,” she poked him in the chest to emphasize her point, “push through an incalcitrant Congress? Not to mention the work you did in the eight years before that. So, you’re not a wartime consigliere. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Wartime consigliere,” Josh only gave her a tight smile but given his mood tonight Donna counted it as a win. “You’re enjoying _The Godfather_ references tonight.”

“It was on TCM this afternoon,” she shrugged and gave him a light smile in return. “ _He_ has an entire staff working to ensure that he can do his job for eight years, and he has a one-minute commute.” She paused as if weighing the counterarguments, “Granted, I don’t think any parent thinks they see their kids enough, but he sees Peter and Miranda plenty. I assure you he won’t hold that against you if you want to spend more time with your daughter. You can go.”

“Yeah,” Josh breathed, as if he were exhaling from the relief of thirteen years of pressure finally being removed from his chest. “It’s time to go. I’m leaving the White House.”

Donna smile grew wider this time, “How does it feel to say it?” 

“You know,” Josh returned her disbelieving smile and pulled her into his side, “I couldn’t even have imagined it five years ago, but it feels really, really good.”

“Good.” She punctuated the statement with a chaste kiss before pulling back to tease him, “Who would have thought I would outlast Joshua Lyman at the White House.”

“Hold on,” Josh leaned back in protest, “I haven’t left yet. So technically I still out number you by a day.”

Donna feigned disinterest, “I’m going to have to sign you in on a guest pass, which means no wandering the halls, you’ll have to stay in my office where I can see you.”

She may have been teasing him but the idea of trading late nights in the dark corners of the West Wing for sun-soaked days out on the Mall and lazy weekends was too enticing, and he pulled her back against his chest content to let her rib him, “Yeah, you might have to knock a few heads around Congress on my behalf, too. Think you can handle doing my dirty work?”

“Don’t worry,” she sighed, “I still know how to send a few Sicilian messages when needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> "It's a Sicilian message. It means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes." The Godfather (dir. Francis Ford Coppola 1972).
> 
> Not to be too desperate for external validation, but my engagement on my fics has seemed to have gone down since I started posting this summer. What type of content do people want to read? I'm really looking to improve my creative writing since it's not a skill I get to use everyday so I'm open to constructive criticism if you've got it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you're interested, come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://torn--and--frayed.tumblr.com/)


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